I really should have it figured out. I always know WHEN, it’s the WHAT that throws me. Sadly, I am a slow learner.
For the 14 of the last 23 years (this is factoring in pregnancy and over 6 years of breastfeeding), every month it has been the same thing.
I puff up like a blow-fish, face breaks out, mood alternates between weeping sap and Brunhilda the bad witch.
I know this is coming, and each month, after some sort of emotional devastation, I say to myself:
“next month, I will know this is coming, and I will take it is stride when my kids behave like children, I won’t freak out when they forget to take their dishes to the sink, or protest about a shower.”
and each month I say to my self:
“next month, I will remember, it is not great writing that is making me weep when I read this book, it is a just a book, not some heretofore untold revelation about the human spirit”.
And so this month:
It was all a big surprise again. (I guess in someways that is fine, after all, it probably means that Dave can give me the same gift every year for my birthday and I will be equally thrilled each time.)
Yesterday, I was listening to a good book, not a great book, when the end of the story sent me sobbing from the kitchen in a frantic search for tissue.
Yesterday, I couldn’t button my pants.
Yesterday, Kjell noticed that I had more pimples on my face than he does.
Yesterday, I blew my top when soccer gear was left in the middle of the den.
Next month, it WILL be different. I am going to make a little sign to remind me, maybe 8×10 ft, and place it above the couch in the living room. Neon letters, perhaps, that say:
“PMS: coming soon to this living room, don’t miss it!”